


It Started With "Hello!"

by Annabelle_0538



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Adoption, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Animal Abuse, Brutality, Bullying, Child Abuse, Cults, Death, Disturbing Themes, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Emotional/Mental Abuse, Excessive Violence, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Foster homes, Gore, Group Homes, Hate Crimes, Hate Speach, Homophobia, Illigal Child Labor, Inhumane Science experiments, Insensitivity towards religion, M/M, Mamma!Edd, Multi, Murder, NSFW, Physical Abuse, REALLY bad parenting, Racism, Rape, Running Away, Self Harm, Sex, Suicide, Suicide Attempts, Trans!Tom, Transphobia, Underaged Consentual Sex, Underaged Consumption of Alcohol, Underaged Drug Usage, Underaged Smoking, Verbal Abuse, Wepons, alcoholic, insensitivity, mention of rape, oblivious!Matt, serious themes, serious topics, trama, triggering themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabelle_0538/pseuds/Annabelle_0538
Summary: How things would be so much different if Tom had just kept his mouth shut, and never said "Hello" to the new, odd, foreign, teenaged boy in town...





	1. Prolog;

My fists clenched. The vein that pops out of his forehead when he gets angry and is restraining himself from getting violent showed predominantly against his pale skin. My teeth grinded down together to keep myself from spitting violent angry words at my lover. His hands clenched to the point of white knuckles. Our matching gold bands of rings were not the only thing that made our hands the same in looks. 

“I shouldn't have trusted you. I shouldn't have said shit to you. Now look at the mess we are fucking in all because of you!!” Tord spat in pure rage.

“I was just trying to help your, tord!” I defended myself, keeping up the same angered tone.

“What a bullshit excuse!! If you wanted to help me, you wouldn't have goes to the pigs!! Your a fucking snitch!! A squealer!! And where I come from, you'd die for what you have done with a slash to your tongue with a razor blade where you then die from choking on your own blood. Which is a gift from God after the torture you go through before hand.”

“So what is that supposed to mean?! You gonna hit me?! Kill me?! For trying to get you away from that life and get you to safety!? Do it!! Fucking do it Tord, I dare you! You won't! No balls!” 

“Tom….you know I wouldn't hurt you like that.” He growled through his teeth. The no balls thing had him in a tizzy within his own head. He knew he needed to calm down before he acted upon his words, but basically being called a pussy to his face sure as hell wasn't helping.

“The bruise on my wrist says otherwise.” 

“I put that's there because you did what you did and then tried to leave me!!”

“You know tord, you sound exactly like your father. ‘It's not my fault I hurt you, you made me do it!’  
Sound familiar?! ” 

“Don't you fucking say that. I am nothing like him.”

“Well you're acting a shit ton like him!!”

“What, just because I got angry with you for leaving me?!” 

“No! Because you got violent with me!!”

“Because you ruined my life!!!”

“Oh, I'm soooo sorry I wanted you to stop cooking and selling meth just to support your family the way your parents won't!!-” sarcasm flowed within my words.

“Hey! Cooking meth was family bonding time!!” 

“That's sad. Is that was you also called it when you were dealing what you made, along with-” I then began to list the things on my fingers “pot, cocaine, heroin, shrooms, and acid with your brothers!? ”

“Thomas! I-!” 

“-Oh! And I'm soooo sorry I wanted you to stop coming into school with a fear of gym class just because you have to take off your hoodie and everyone will be able to see your bruises and scars and hickies!! I'm so sorry I wanted you to finally get away so you could feel safe…”

“Yes, because I am going to feel so fucking safe in a fucking mental hospital.”

My brows furrowed as the anger and violence dropped completely from my voice, now just full of concern and confusion of this new, unexplained, information.

“I thought they were taking you to an orphanage or a group home thing?”

“Yeah, and then the cops who picked me up from my house sent me to the hospital because I had a reasonable amount of anger for someone in my situation!!They are taking me to be evaluated further to see if I qualify for inpatient, which means I'm not aloud to fucking live the damn place, I sleep, eat, and bathe there, or outpatient, which means I get to leave at the end of the day and go home….or now because of you, back to my lovely, rat infested, spider and cockroach covered, closet space, so small that I hesitate to call it a room.”

That was a lie. 

He knew the evaluation wasn't to tell if he was in or out patient...it's was to determine how intense the security of his new living arrangements were to be so he wouldn't be able to get out, hurt anyone or himself, or get ahold of anything that he could use for whatever. 

I frowned. He didn't know yet. I was sure of it. He has been far far to busy with everything to be watching tv.

He didn't see what was on the local news of the town, where they talked about the arrest of Tord’s father and mother, since both refused to go down without a fight, ending with three cops dead and ten wounded. Along with this information, they had obtained footage of Tord, beating the absolute shit out of a police officer because they had been rushing him and his brothers and sisters away from the violence, and seeing as he didn’t want to leave the parents he sadly loved as well as his siblings the cops couldn't have gotten out of the house as quickly as the first few, he lost his shit on them. 

They tried to detain him and stop him from going back into the war zone of a house...and his emotions got the best of him, as they often do, and anger turned to rage, and rage turned to violence. 

They even showed a picture of what the man's face looked like after the violent attack and it was one of the most grotesque things I have ever seen. His face was bloated, bloody and bruised all over. 

It made me sad to think that my first reaction to the photo was an audible “God damn…how strong is Tord’s dad is he can hit like that and he walks away from there weekly fist fights with only a scratch or two.” 

…I didn't have the heart to tell him the entire town, and possibly the entire state, saw him and his family on tv…so I pretended to believe him for both our sakes. 

My throat was beginning to hurt from all our back and forth screaming. I signed, sitting on the bed of our hotel, before taking a look out the window to find the rising California sun shining brightly into my eyes. I couldn't help but wonder how life was back in London.

How the hell did this start...and how the fuck did we both find ourselves here?


	2. The New Boy in Town

Chatter and whispers littered the halls all around the Elizabeth Alexandra Mary High School, or EAM High, as it did all up and down Durdum Lane. No one could stop talking about the new mysterious teenaged boy, that hunter's up by the woods have seen alone and doing quite strange things up in the forest that lined the town. The boy was one who just seemed to pop up out of nowhere in the quiet little town where we haven't seen a new face since Carlos and María Flores with their son Edwardo who had moved here from Brooklyn, New York back in 1994, 11 years ago.

Apparently the towns gun enthusiasts had found the boy scoping the area at about 6am. The way he was moving within the woods had them taking shots at the poor boy. Long, lanky, quick. They thought he was a doe, only stopping their precise fire when they heard the yell of a teenaged boy in a foreign language, something they said kind of sounded like Swedish mixed with Russian. 

Of course, as anyone would do, they ran to the yell, worrying they hurt the boy. But as they got closer they saw nothing but bloody footprints following the finger shadowed by the trees in the dawn light. His back was to them so they saw nothing but his back and only heard the sound of crunching leaves under his quick feet. 

Upon looking further at where the boy had been before the shots were fired, he left behind several...disturbing things…

They found a bow but no arrows other then some they found around the forest when the group broke off to try and find the boy. They were still worried and sceptical over if he had been hit do to all the blood on the ground left behind by his footprints so they went looking for him (which is when the found the arrows where he must have been shooting and missed his target). They figured he had been shot in the leg and the blood was running down his leg and onto the ground as he ran. Some were sceptical seeing as he had not been reported to have been running with a limp, but when you have just been shot by a group of strangers who don't speak your language and can’t express to you there intent, running even though the pain is great is a smart idea. 

They had found a knife, covered in blood, and not to far by a bunch of small animals, all dead. The animals had not just been shot or stabbed through…

There were four rabbits, three rats, seven birds, one deer, and two stray dogs. All seventeen animals had been slit open with the knife, every animal was missing something or other. One rabbit was missing both of its hind legs. The second rabbit was missing its head. The third of the rabbits was cut up with a clean slit down its back and was now missing its spine and intestands. The last rabbit was missing not one, not two, but ALL of its organs except for its intestines. 

The rats were semi similar to the bunnies. One was missing its head, the second was missing the entire bottom half of his body (hind legs to tail), and the last was missing its eyes specifically along with all of its intestines. 

Scattered along the forest floor with the animals were seven birds. Unlike any of the other animals, every ones of these birds had the same exact things missing. Both feet, both wings, the tail and the beak. They were also different in the way that not one of them were the same species of bird. There were seven birds and not one of them were the same as the other.   
One hawk, one chickadee, one sparrow, one swallow, one crow, a raven, and lastly, one woodpecker. 

The buck was missing both eyes, one hoof, its jaw, and tongue. One of the strays, a jack russell, had the same exact missing. Both eyes, one paw, its jaw, and tongue.   
The second strey, a pitbull, was killed and taken from much, much more burtally. the poor animal was missing its entire head, all of its organs, its spine, and its tail.

It was clear this was no normal hunter. 

The D.G.L. club (Durdum Gun Lovers), of course went straight to the police. The police did a more thurow look of the area and figured out though the the time of death of the animals and how recent the wounds were, that the reason the boy ran, was because they had walked in on his little ritual where he was right in the middle of taking what he had from his victims. 

They took the bow and arrows and knife in to the DNA analysis unit and found several finger prints! But...not one person in the town matched the data bace. They widened there search to the city. Nothing. They searched the entire London database and...nothing. There were no answers. This was a case that had police and average citizens alike completely baffled.

This obviously was all over the local news, in the town newspaper, and in everyone’s gossip sessions around the town. Everyone, and I mean everyone was talking about this dude. Even the quiet kids who avoid drama at all costs! 

People have been instructed to stay out of the woods at all coasts and to lock their windows and doors at nice in case they have a killer working his way up from animal to people. The cops honestly think this is the case seeing as there is a noticeable increase in size and strength of animal. Police officers say they have seen this pattern before and say that if he is like the killers they have seen before, then he will be working his way up to humans soon enough. 

Of course, since Durdum Lane has always been a quiet, sleepy, little down, this had everyone shook up. We have never had this kind of trouble in the town. 

Now see, unlike most kids in my school...I right now was more concerned about myself...wondering if something was wrong with me in the head. Because as everyone in the school, no, in the town, has their biggest concern being the possibly killer-to-be at large...mine was what am I going to do about the permanent marker that lined my locker with derogatory remarks…  
Because not even a person convicted of animal brutality and death, also likely to become a killer according to professional detectives who have seen things like this before on the loose could stop the torture and abuse inflicted on me in school. 

“FAT” “DYKE” “TRANNY” “BITCH” “FREAK” “IDIOT” “MISTAKE” “WASTE OF LIFE” “KILL YOURSELF” “FAGGOT” “DIE IN A PIT” “CRAZY” “DRINK BLEACH” “SLIT YOUR WRIST” “TIE A NOOSE AROUND YOUR NECK” “JUMP OFF A BRIDGE” “RETARD” “UNWANTED” “UNLOVED” “REJECT” 

My thoughts unknowingly on accident became verbal 

“Oooh...tie a noose around my neck...that one is new….”

I sighed and opened up my locker to retrieve my books for class. There was nothing I could do at the moment about the harsh language against the blue locker of mine. I'd have to go to the janitor later today and have him help me clean off my locker again as best we can.

The halls were beginning to fill with kids leaving 2nd period. I had gotten out earlier than the rest of them because I had asked to go to the girls room three minutes before the bell would ring, and went to my locker instead so I could have a few moments to myself before having to be surrounded by another crowed of prepubescent jerk-offs with raging hormones and wrathful feelings towards me for being something they just weren't used to. People hate different. 

I shoved my books quickly into the small bag that hung loosely from my shoulder. I went as fast as I could get my feet to move, without violating the rules of no running in the halls, to try and avoid 5 people specifically. I headed as quick as I could to my next class, the science room, trying to avoid as best I could from stepping on toes or bumping into shoulders. 

I didn't get far. 

Someone grabbed my arm before I could make it even close to my classroom down the hall. The person had snap nails that they dug into my skip as they gripped my arm forcefully. They whipped me back and slammed me into the lockers. My back scratched against the little slits that juts out from the metal on the locker. The crash of my head into the locker echoed.

I yelped as I was face to face with the person to do this. Her name was Shelby. 

Shelby wore far to much make up, far to much pink Leonard print, and a had far to much anger built up from over the weekend with no outlet to let me run off when she had the perfect shot. She’s kinda what I pictured American “white trash” to look like.

“Ohhhh no no no, where do you think you are going Tammara??” 

My eyes darted to the floor. Her words smelt like old cheese. 

When I looked to the floor, I was able to see 4 other pairs of shoes. Three pairs of nice sneakers and a pair of red stilettos. Grace, Matt S., Josh, and Jacob. Shelby’s little groupies. 

Grace was Shelby’s best friend. They had become best friends due to Grace’s despite need to be liked and popular. She was a sheep, Shelby was her hearder. She was a blind follower, willing to do anything and everything to be liked by who she thought was cool. She wanted to be cool. Grace always wore caked on makeup and tiny skirts that left nothing to the imagination. She wore push up brass and whatever the new trend in fashion was? Grace was on top of it, no matter how dumb it was. But of course, you can’t have Grace and Shelby without the love triangle drama started by Matt S.

Matt S. was the second Matt in our school. Matt H. is a good friend of mine and he is the long term boyfriend of my best friend, Edd Guld.   
Matt S. on the other hand….  
Matt couldn't seem to figure out what it means to keep his hands to himself.   
He was dating Grace, who he constantly would grope in the halls and in class, which got him usually in a lot of trouble with the he school (seeing as the two of them will hump like bunnies in spring in the middle of the hall, class and the lunchroom like its nothing). Although his history with Grace was apparent and obvious, he has also been seen several times in several places with several people, one of them specifically, being Shelby.   
Matt only had one thing in common with the boyfriend of Edd.   
They both are absolute drama queens and are a whore for gossip.   
...now I'm not sure if the whore in general part goes for both though…

The boy in the sneakers on the left of Matt S. was Josh, The twin brother to the boy on the right of Matt, Jacob. Jacob and Josh were, and are, nothing special (no matter how mentally handicapped they act just to get a few chuckles).   
The twins were attention hogs and would do anything and everything for all attention to be on them as often as they could get it. They caused trouble in the classroom, in the halls, lunchroom, outside of the school, at home, in public, basically anywhere and everywhere they could be seen by a large number of people who would give them either a laugh, or a disappointed, annoyed glare.

I didn't say anything, I just kept my eyes to the floor. Shelby dug her nails deeper into my arm and I yelped out loudly in pain. Tears beaded in my eyes. I have never been good at holding back tears, one of many flaws I saw in myself that frustrated me to no end. 

People in the flooded halls did nothing. People either didn’t notice in the hussle and bussle of teens trying to rush to class, or they did notice and just...didn’t do anything...just watched.

“Pl-please let me go…I’ll be late for class”

The grip got tighter as Shelby laughed. 

“Ok...I’ll let you get going then...but before you go...won't you tell me? Where did you get this pretty pretty dress??” 

Sarcasm was obvious within her words.

Silently, in the back of my mind, I curse my mother's name since she is the one who bought and forced me to wear this uncomfortable, thick, tight, frilly monstrosity of a dress that she said I "look stunning in.” And my Grandmother as well simply for agreeing to come pick me up after school. On. The. Dot. To drive me to the church for a teen NWTHS (New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures) study group thing that she had signed me up for, which is what the dress was bought for in the first place. With no time between my grandma picking me up and the moment school ends I didn't have the time to get changed, so I was forced by my mother to wear it to school so I would be ready to go when my grandmother arrived. 

Usually I wear my favorite blue hoodie Edd had given me when we were younger that I still somehow managed to fit in, a pair of blue jeans and some comfortable shoes, like sneakers. That was my favorite outfit. 

A lot of the kids at school thought it made me look like a boy or some sort of butch lesbian...but...I'm-...I’m not…  
My parents say that too...they actually have tried several times to get rid of my outfit but I never let them...It is the only thing I ever fight with them over.

I love that outfit. I don't know my but I feel so much more comfortable in those clothes then I ever do in any of the other things my parents buy me...and...so what if I don't exactly mind getting mistaken for a “he”....whatever…that's not the point...there is so much more I could say on the subject of my specific feelings towards those clothes but much more important things are happening than these stupid thoughts in my head that mean NOTHING! I'm sure of it!  
….nothing at all…

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I rarely ever lie and when I do, I find I'm horrible at it. I couldn't help but blurt the truth. 

“M-...my mom bought it for me for a teen pr-prayer group at my Kingdom Hall…” 

They all looked puzzled. A Kingdom Hall is basically the Jehovah Witness version of a Christian church. The confusion didn't last long though, they really didn’t care as long as they got the conclusion that this dress in even a little important to me in anyway so they could take action upon their next planned moves. 

“Well...You know...I really really like it! I think I'll take it for myself!” 

Shelby ripped me from my spot and dragged me into the nearest bathroom that was at the end of the hall. The two of us, being followed by the four other teens, came face to face with a sign painted pink with the picture or a girl in a dress. Shelby used me to push the door that seemed just a little heavier today than it had the last time wide open to take me into the girls room just before the halls could clear and the teachers would come looking to make sure no one was out there, skipping class. 

The door always seemed much heavier lately...it oddly felt like shame in a way...shame to enter my own sex’s bathroom. Again...these feelings mean nothing...I'm sure everyone feels that way...I mean...public bathrooms are always awkward...maybe...shame kind of-...or-...not important!

Matt S., Jacob and Josh stood in front of the girls room door, which was a push not a pull, blocking it so no one could get in. Once knowing that the door was secure with three strong boys pushing up against it the opposite way it was meant to be pushed so no one could get in from the other side, Shelby and Grace pushed me to the floor. I hit my head on the bathroom sink before I hit the ground that I doubt has been cleaned since the 1920’s.

Shelby grabbed onto the first of three layers of frill on my dress and pulled, ripping the dress apart with a loud shearing-esq sound. shhhhhht. I screamed. 

“No!! Stop it!!” I cried out, which then old encouraged Shelby to gesture Grace to come over (which of course Grace did) to help rip my dress apart. 

“I said I want this dress Tammara!! You are going to fucking give me what I want!! But since you won't just be nice about it, I'm going to have to take this dress from you Bit. By. Bit!” The bottom half of my dress was ripped to shreds as the two girls pulled at the fabric frantically. 

Tears beaded at my eyes. I ended up not fighting back...just yelling at them. I didn’t fight back because...I knew I couldn't win...and I'd rather a beating from my mom and dad then a beating from a group of 5 other teens, much stronger than myself, along with the beating from my parents sure to follow. 

Now...When you are growing up in a strict, Jehovah Witness household...I beating is inevitable no matter what you do, if you are doing whatever instead of praising Christ.   
Most of my family is actually uneducated because of this. None of them went to school because it just wasn't as important as making it to the holy land. Maybe I didn't fight back because I just was so used to not hitting back, seeing as no matter how much they hurt me, I'd never hurt my parents...because I know they only hit me because they love me and want what is best for me...

I'm actually the first in 3 generations who even made it to highschool. Usually my family would go the minimum requirement by law and then just drop out. 

I am also the first to have friends outside of my religion. Just one more thing that gets me beat...

Other kids have to worry about taking home bag grades, I get in trouble for bringing home grades in general. 

Other kids have to worry about their parents allowing them to see their friends or getting them to like them, I get in trouble for even glancing at another person outside of the Jehovah Witness religion unless my family goes out to try and convert people. 

It’s not uncommon for me to get beaten. It’s not uncommon for any child in such a strict, unbreathable, over the top, religious extremist household. 

But at least my parents are right...I mean...like…  
I'm not saying that Christianity, Judaism, Muslim, and Hinduism are wrong….but...my parents taught me that I won't be seeing any of them in the holy afterlife.   
So basically...their wrong...but I would never say that out loud the same way my mother and father would...unless we were going door to door trying to convert the undoubtedly sinners to a better life…

That's not important though...

By the time Grace and Shelby were done I was left with basically nothing of the lower half of my skirt. Just ripped up laced fabric, just enough to cover my panties. Before I could even sit up from where I was pushed to the ground, the two girls had walked over to the trash bin that was by the sink closest to the door. Both lifted the trashcan towards the left of the sink and laughed at me as they dropped an entire bag of napkins, towels, old snacks, wrappers, old used tampons and pads, some pencils that have been there, piling up for at least a month, only emptied right now.

the two threw the bin at my head and then walked to the boys, taking their sweet time as they yelled back to me “fucking dyke!!” In unison. The boys moved out of there way and all five left the room, leaving me alone, 

They walk away as if they can take their time because even if they get caught? The rules don't apply to them of course! Because why would they...? That makes perfect sense....and this is proven as fact due to how many times I have come dirtied, beaten, bruised, bloodied, wet, ect. to any sort of authority figure in the school, and how many times they walk away without punishment...

I slowly stood up after pushing the large, smelly, plastic bin off of me, then as I quick as I could ripped every bit of trash off my body, I looked into the mirror at myself. To see the dress my mom spent three-hundred dollars on...now destroyed with fresh and old blood, mysterious garbage juice from the lord only knows what, and weird stains matching every bit of wrapper on the trash on the floor.

 

I'll be getting quite the stern "talking to" from specifically my father that will surely end in me "being the clumsy girl I am and falling down the stairs again" for dirtying this dress. Clear tears streamed down my smooth cheek.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I quick as I could ripped every bit of trash off my body before looking into the mirror at myself to see the dress my mom spent three-hundred dollars on...was destroyed with fresh and old blood, mysterious garbage juice from the lord only knows what, and weird stains matching every bit of wrapper on the trash on the floor.  
Tears spilled down my cheeks, knowing for a fact I'll be getting quite the stern "talking to" that will surely end in me "being the clumsy girl I am and falling down the stairs again" from my father for dirtying this dress and-....oh god is that a rip?! The few drops turned now to a fast river running down my smooth cheek.

...8 A.M. ...

8A.M. and I'm already crying...  
Today is going to be long. I can't tell....

 

The next thing I heard was the rough opening of the girls room door. The quick footsteps of two extremely worried friends who knew something was wrong after I hadn't shown up for first period, didn't answer any of the texts Edd shot me and after they heard my attackers laughing and talking about what they had done as they walked to their next classes.

The next thing I saw was my best friends, rushing into the room. Unmistakably, Edd was the tall one with the chubby body type. Messy brown locks that hung low in his face. Wearing his classic, clean, vibrant grass green hoodie, a pair of smoky grey pants and neatly, well taken care of, white sneakers. 

Behind him was a lanky figure, assumably matt, who was no less than 3 inches shorter than Edd. Swooped up ginger hair and a face covered in freckles. A purple hoodie, surprisingly lacking his usual green overcoat, with washed out blue jeans, and a pair of similar conditioned white sneakers as Edd had.

The next thing I felt...pure relief to have a protection from the harsh disturbing world. The feeling of a warm comforting hug, full of worry and concern, from a big, green, bear. 

The feeling of a break, a gap, in the pain even if only for a second, a small blip of safety and security...and yet also pure fear. Fear of what Edd was going to do. Fear of what Edd was going to say. Fear of what would come from the ones who did this visual and emotional damage to me and their group of many other friends who thankfully were not with them at this time if Edd were to do or say anything. Fear of the fact Edd can't be here to make this pain stop all day….especially not after school gets out….which somehow about to be more miserable than the way I am treated ever day at this school. 

 

Yeah...no...this is not the first time this has happened, this it'll not be the last...and this is not the worst having been done to me before class…

Matt did not join in comforting my crying self, only because he was watching the door to make sure no one would catch Edd (and himself if he went in) in the girls bathroom, holding a crying girl tightly.

Matt was the only one worked here….Edd may have been a chubby guy with a kind heart and sweet face….but he was not above a fist fight in the girls bathroom over protecting a friend.

The next place I went was the nurse where I was escorted by Edd, encouraged to change my clothes for an extra pair from the nurses stash that she keeps for kids who wear clothes against school protocol who need to change or be sent home. I went willingly after the rapid waters of tears slowed to a dried up river.

For the rest of the day I was walking around in a pink zip up hoodie from lost and found, a piece of black fabric I hesitate to call shorts from the very very little selection of pants from the nurse, and my own shoes that were still wet with garbage water. 

The zip up was itchy and baggy. The pants were way to short and way to tight for comfort. My shoes slipped and sloshed with each step and almost made me fall onto my back 6 times in the first few minutes that I had them wet. 

Seeing though, that these were my only options, unless I wanted to be harassed even further for being a “tranny” for being in comfortable boys clothing, I'd stick to being uncomfortable.

What a wonderful day to be alive.

By the time this event of clothes swapping was finished it was 9 A.M.

Class had already started. Matt, Edd, and myself were all late for math...but unlike me, Edd and Matt weren't as worried and in a hurry to get to class. 

 

The nurse refused to give us an excuse note for class because none of us had been, nor were any of us at this moment sick. So once in class, I specifically, was called out by our teacher, and of course, seeing as life can't get any better, we have the most strict, nasty, teacher in the whole school who then gave us after school detention for being 30 minutes late.

What a wonderful day to be alive.

When the teacher had made the call to our parents to let them know we wouldn't be coming home at the proper time today, and why, my mother went on the warpath. 

She requested to speak to me and of course the teacher let her seeing as she had apparently made it her life goal to ruin mine. 

I then missed the rest of the 30 minutes of class because my mother needed such time to scream at me over the phone because “this wouldn't have ever happened if you just followed the path God laid out for you.”

She canceled my grandmother coming to pick me up from church and told me my father would come get me where he would then tell me what he has to say about all of this and give me my punishment for getting into trouble/making my teachers angry. 

Punishment in my family is code word for his fist around my throat at the most mild of times, choking me till I pass out, and then threatening me that if I am to ever tell another soul of what he does to me, he will make me pass out for the rest of time if you catch my drift.

What a wonderful, lovely, happy day to be alive!!

At lunch, Shelby and Grace got a few of their other girls together and beat me up behind the cafeteria dumpster which was right outside the place of eating where the couldn't get in trouble since they couldn't be seen (therefore, couldn't be caught).

Edd eventually came out seeing as he had no idea where I was, was beginning to worry, and (unsurprisingly) was the only one who even though to look in the most odious place where it's known people are often taken out there to get beat up. By the time he found my I was already badly bruised and beaten and cut up. Edd took me for the second time, to the nurse.

Who wouldn't love a wonderful life like this?!

After school, in detention, I was surprised to find that Shelby and Grace had both gotten themselves in trouble so they could be taken to detention where they knew I would be just so they could torment me just a little bit longer. 

They threw crumpled up notes at my head, which I would then unball to find nasty words and comic-esque pictures about me. The teacher then yelled at ME for passing notes and made me come to the front of the class to read said note, which then she yelled at me for because I had said so many naughty words in the note she presumed to be mine. 

They shot spit balls at me and pulled my hair from behind. The teacher didn't notice. And if she did? She didn't care. 

All I could do was try not to show weakness to them no matter how much I wanted to cry. 

 

Even if I did cry though, it would have done nothing. They wouldn't stop the harassment, I would just feel silly, it wouldn't relieve any stress, they will have gotten what they wanted, it wouldn't make the teachers take action….and I have already cried so much today that I think I am out of tears...there is none left.

I just LOVE my wonderful life.

After school my dad never showed up. 

I called him up and he told me he forgot. I asked him to come and get me and he said no. 

He told me to walk home. 

He told me to walk to our house which is 10 miles away. 

He told me to walk for the estimated next two and a half hours. 

He told me to be there in ten minutes or I was grounded.

He told me to make a trip that is at the least the span of two and a half hours, in ten minutes, as it was getting dark out, and about to rain.

I couldn't be loving this wonderful life more!

Edds mom offered me a ride but I politely declined…  
My family are not fans of the Gould family. My parents don't like them because of two reasons;   
One being that Edd is openly gay and has a boyfriend. (That is Matt.)  
And two, because they know I am friends with a non Jehovah's Witness, that I will be lead from the path of all that it's good and holly and will not make it into god's heavenly plain, and will instead be taken to be burned forever in damn nation with the G.

If I was to take Edd and his family anywhere near my house, my father and mother would lose their minds. The way this was made me miserable to think about alone….but I could not do anything about it…

They drove off and soon enough matt's parents came too and took him off to his house...and thus, I was left alone.

I would have started walking right after my father had called but I knew no matter what I was going to get in trouble and caught in the rain...so I might as well spend a little time with my friends before I have to go back to the home and confront personified hell.

I regret this greatly.

After my friends left, who else to meet up with me but Grace and Shelby. Now that Edd and mat were gone, the school as empty and there was no one coming for me, they emerged from there little hiding spots and stood in front of me.

“Well well well...look who we have here” Shelby said.   
“A little girl, all alone, with no friends around, no family coming to get her, no teachers to stop us, no cops to find the body.” Grace said taking a step closer to me, making me jump back.  
“No one can save you now Tammy,” Grace smirked “running away won't stop us, neither will jumping.”  
“Yeah! So now that we are all alone, why don't we finish what that fag of a friend stopped us from doing before.” Shelby giggled wickedly before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a switchblade. I was stricken end with fear, I heard that bone chilling laugh and I ran. I had no idea what was in store for me but I knew it wasn't good. Into the pouring rain I ran. Two sets of footsteps followed me. Terrified for my life, I ran. I ran and didn't look back.   
Anxiety consumed me as thoughts raced through my mind as quick as my nimble feet along the payment of the school parking lot I was dashing across. This was the fastest I had ever run in my life, but if I didn't keep this pace I knew whatever the two girls had planned was going to be up into action.

They were always one step behind me, just one. Paranoia flooded my mind. As I ran I swear I could feel sharp nailed hands trying to grip the hood of my hoodie. My heart pounded. The water along my body wasn't all just rain, sweat is what mixed in. My ankles ached and screamed for me to stop with every pound onto the puddle covered pavement my heels took. My hair was sticking to my forehead and down my back. The rain made it ten times harder for me to see where I was going through the quickly darkening streets as I ran.

….I kind of wanted to stop running so I can die and leave this wonderful life behind….


End file.
